back. His eyesight was good, but not good enough
to see the .50 caliber slug which passed through his abdomen and tore the
ear of another warrior's horse.

The rider of the horse owning the mutilated ear looked quickly backward,
screamed a warning and war-cry all in one and began to shoot rapidly.
His surprised companion followed suit as the coach came to a stand, and
another rifle, long silent, took a hand in the dispute with a vim as if
to make up for lost time. The first warrior fell, shot through by both
rifles, and the other, emptying his magazine at the new factor, who was
very busily engaged in extracting a jammed cartridge, wheeled his pony
about and fled toward the south, panic-stricken by the accuracy of the
newcomer and terrorized by the awful execution. But the Apache's last
shot nearly cleaned the sheriff's slate, grazing The Orphan's temple and
stunning him: a fraction of an inch more to the right would have cheated
the Cross Bar-8 of any chance of revenge.

Bill, still holding the rifle, leaped to the sand and ran to where his
rescuer lay huddled in the dust of the plain.

"I've got yore smoking," he exclaimed breathlessly, at last getting rid
of his mental burden. Then he stopped short, swore, and bent over the
figure, and grasping the body firmly by neck and thigh, slung it over
his shoulders and staggered toward the coach, his progress slow and
laborious because of the deep sand and dust. As he neared his objective
he glanced up and saw that his passengers had left the stage and were
grouped together on the plain like lambs lost in a lion country.

They were hysterical, and all talked at once, sobbing and wringing their
hands. But when they noticed the driver stumbling toward them with the
body across his shoulders their tongues became suddenly mute with a new
fear. Up to then they had thought only of their own woes and bruises, but
here, perhaps, was Death; here was the man who had risked his life that
they might live, and he might have lost as they gained.

They besieged Bill with tearful questions and gave him no chance to
reply. He staggered past them and placed his burden in the scant shadow
of the coach, while they cried aloud at sight of the blood-stained
face, frozen in their tracks with fear and horror. Bill, ignoring them,
hastily climbed with a wonderful celerity for him, to the high seat
and dropped to the ground with a canteen which he had torn from its
fastenings. Pouring its contents